


One Day We'll Wake Up From This Crazy Dream

by JustDuckinDont



Series: These lifetimes of ours are endless [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustDuckinDont/pseuds/JustDuckinDont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending a year in the hospital, Lexa meets nurse Clarke Griffin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day We'll Wake Up From This Crazy Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Title from I Don't Know by Nick Hakim.
> 
> I do recommend listening to the song, not just because its amazing but because I think it fits.

Lexa hated the machines. She hated the sounds they made, low enough to not disturb her waking moments. Loud enough to keep her awake, loud enough to remind her that she would not live forever. Loud enough to remind her that soon she will die and that no one could stop it, not even the machines she was attached to.

 

When she closed her eyes to dream she saw nothing. It was an empty void, filled with the hum of the machines around her. When she opened her eyes to see, she saw nothing but white walls and blinking lights. Sometimes she counted each blink of those yellow, red and green lights but it only served to allow her to count until her dying breath.

 

The doctors told her not to do that. That it would only sadden her further but there was nothing that would make her happy anymore. Her family hadn't come in the past three months, the kind nurse that visited daily kept her up-to-date as each day passed. Told her the weather and a little about her own family.

 

Lexa remembered her name to be nurse Blake, Aurora Blake to be exact. A tall woman with a soft voice, her hair long and dark. A shade of brown darker than her own and her eyes hazel. Her eyes that seemed to fill with pity and sadness each time she looked down at Lexa.

 

It was something Lexa hated, the only time those eyes weren't filled with pity and sadness was when the nurse spoke of her children. A son, Bellamy and a daughter, Octavia. Her son a military man, her daughter still in high school but a track star. Their father not in the picture but Lexa knew nurse Blake raised them well enough on her own.

 

But one day nurse Blake did not appear in her room at 5 am sharp. A different woman stood in her place, her soft, ocean blue eyes holding firm with Lexa's own forest green. Blonde hair that was pulled back into what Lexa believed to be a french braid. Her voice rough but beautiful, fitting as the woman herself was quite beautiful.

 

She spoke quietly, her hand covering Lexa's own limp one. Lexa could see her thumb rubbing soothingly over her knuckles but she could not feel it. She hadn't felt anything physically since the accident one year ago. The accident she should have died in but by some foolish decision made by a foolish being kept her alive.

 

The nurse sat by her side late one evening. Dressed in light blue scrubs, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun. Blue eyes filled with a certain sadness that Lexa couldn't just quite place. She knew it was not for herself, she knew the difference between those looks and others. When words were not spoken to her directly, she saw their words with the looks they gave her.

 

Lexa moved her head slowly, the only part of her she could move. Her eyes taking in the full form of the nurse by her bedside, the nurse she didn't even know the name of. The nurse knew her name, knew her age, knew everything there was to know about her from her medical charts but Lexa wanted to know _her._

 

“Nurse?” Lexa whispered quietly, her voice coming out harsh due to no use. The blonde beside the bed didn't look up at her as Lexa spoke again. Louder this time and with more force. “Nurse.”

 

Blue eyes snapped up and met green with a look of uncertainty. “Ms. Woods, are you okay? Do you need something?” She asked quickly, getting to her feet, tucking a lock of blonde hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear. “Ms. Woods?”

 

“I do need something.”

 

“Tell me Ms. Woods, I can get you almost anything you need.” She stood closer, leaning over the bed. Her hand resting on the railing, the other at her side.

 

“Your name for starters.” Lexa coughed, watching as the nurse moved. Her delicate fingers grabbing a plastic cup and a straw from the bedside table. Lexa waved it away as she swallowed thickly. “Just your name miss..”

 

“Griffin, Clarke Griffin, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I hadn't ever given you my name.”

 

“Nurse Grif-”

 

“Call me Clarke, no need for such formality.” She smiled and Lexa felt her heart skip a beat, the skipped beat registering on her heart monitor. Clarke's smile grew and she laughed softly.

 

“Call me Lexa then, not Ms. Woods, Ms. Woods is my sister, the lawyer.” Lexa smiled weakly.

 

“You have a sister?”

 

“And a brother, but my brother is less interesting than my sister.”

 

“Tell me about them? Unless you don't feel up to it, we could talk about it any other time if you'd like.” She returned to her seat, scooting it closer and leaning against the bed. The sadness in her eyes slowly fading as curiosity filled its void.

 

“I haven't seen my sister in three months, I haven't seen any of my family in three months.” Lexa looked up at the ceiling, wishing she could will herself to move and wipe the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. “But Anya, my sister, she is a hot shot lawyer now. Made my parents proud while I could not.”

 

“I'm sure your parents are proud of you Lexa.”

 

“The last time I saw my mother, I heard her tell my father that I should be dead and that it was pointless for me to breathe.”

 

“They sound like terrible people, perhaps it is better that they don't show then.” Clarke replied with an edge to her voice. “You don't need negativity.”

 

“I should have died Clarke.” The sadness threatened to escape entirely as she spoke.

 

“Yet here you are.”

 

“I know I will die soon, my organs are failing, I am failing.”

 

Clarke fell silent at that, her blue eyes shifting as she seemed to search for the right words to say. Her hands gripping at her scrub bottoms, her foot shifting uneasily. The soft scuffing sound filled the room, a welcome change from the machines around Lexa that ended all too soon. Clarke looked down at her wrist, at the worn metallic watch that ticked softly then back up at Lexa.

 

“My shift just ended.” She murmured quietly.

 

“You want to go, then go nurse Griffin, I cannot stop you.” Lexa growled at her through gritted teeth, anger replacing her sadness. She looked away as Clarke stood with a soft sigh.

 

“I will see you tomorrow Lexa.”

 

“So you shall as I have no where else to go besides the grave.” Lexa replied to the retreating figure, the lights in her room dimming before the door closed with a soft click. It was something Lexa was suddenly very grateful for, her door was not supposed to be closed but she needed it. She needed the solidarity it provided until another nurse walked by and reopened it. It gave her a moment to let her tears fall.

 

–

 

Clarke hated those machines that surrounded Lexa. For the minutes she stood in that room throughout the day they were deafening in her ears. A constant reminder of the thin lifeline that Lexa remained on. She knew if it drove her up the wall, then surely it drove Lexa up the opposite wall.

 

For her remaining hour of her shift she'd chosen to sit with Lexa. The quiet brunette that rarely seemed to speak as Clarke checked on her. Her beautiful green eyes that seemed to follow her every move. The woman had laid there with an unreadable expression up until the last few minutes of her shift.

 

The way the woman had gone from nervous to an almost silent rage kept Clarke awake that night. The way her voice rose in ferocity, the burning look in her eye as Clarke spoke to her. But with her words Clarke suddenly felt compelled to make the woman feel alive again. Clarke knew no one deserved to live their life the way the brunette was. Full of sadness and rage, receiving looks of pure pity from nurses, doctors alike.

 

Clarke had been determined not to look at Lexa that way, she'd spoken to nurse Blake when the woman met her the day she gave in her resignation. The older woman gave her such a deep look of pity as she spoke of Lexa that it almost sickened Clarke. Yet at the same time she understood, she understood how the woman had felt because when she herself looked down at Lexa. For a moment she felt the same, until Lexa looked at her with those eyes. Eyes that held a certain gleam that was rare to find in people.

 

A gleam of a death accepted, that found solemn calmness in it.

 

It was those eyes that Clarke found herself attempting to paint that night in her small home. The shade of green that couldn't just quite find in her spectrum but as she sat down on the floor before the painting. She found herself humming as a single tear rolled down her face. Her hands covering her face as a sob broke through her.

 

She didn't know why she was crying, Lexa did not need her tears. Her father did not need her tears, her mother did not need her tears, Finn did not need her tears. Yet for the first time since her father, mother and Finn died, she found herself crying. Sitting on the floor of her one bedroom home in her pajamas in front of her easel crying.

 

When she looked back up at the painting, tears still streaming down her face. She still hadn't found the color.

 

–

 

Lexa scowled as Clarke stood by her bed. The blonde holding a spoon in her hand with the disgusting hospital food that made Lexa actually beg for death rather than eat it. She fought the blonde but Clarke always seemed to win, her quiet determination almost shocking Lexa.

 

Almost, but not quite.

 

“You have to eat it Lexa.”

 

“I would rather not.”

 

“It isn't that bad Lexa.”

 

“Have you even eaten this before? It tastes like death.” Lexa snapped.

 

“I have, when I broke my arm as a teenager, now eat it.”

 

“No.”

 

“Its mashed potatoes.”

 

“Clarke, its mashed potatoes with no soul.” Lexa argued with a glare. “It tastes like paper spiced with cardboard.” Lexa wished she could smack the blonde's hand away. Hell, she wished she could stand and push the blonde out of her room completely.

 

“You want to die.” Clarke asks suddenly out of the blue, her hand and the offending plastic spoon with the devil's food withdrawn. “Don't you?”

 

“I have accepted that death is in the near future.”

 

“But do you want to die?”

 

“There is little reason for me to live on, I am a burden to everyone I meet.”

 

“That isn't answering my question Lexa.” Clarke sat on the edge of the bed, the food tray in her hands still.

 

“Part of me hopes that one day I will wake up and I will be able to feel again. That I will stand up from this bed and walk to that door. That I will walk down that hallway, past the nurses station and into that elevator. That I will walk out of this hospital and feel the sun on my face, the wind in my hair. That I will see my family again and be able to see my sister again, be able to feel her warm hugs again.” She paused, looking up at Clarke with a hint of sadness in her voice. “I know I will never be able to do any of that ever again, not until the day I die. So yes Clarke, I do want to die. Death is my only escape at this point, there is no hope for me.”

 

Clarke pressed her lips into a thin, hard line and sat the tray down on the bedside table. She then reached out and cupped Lexa's cheek gently, her thumb warm against Lexa's skin. She knew the brunette could feel it, she was only paralyzed from the neck down. She could hear the increase in tempo on the brunette's heart monitor but she didn't need it to tell her what the woman felt.

 

Her mouth fell open and her eyes threatened to close at Clarke's touch. No one had bothered to touch her face in nearly a year, the feeling that came from the simple contact had Lexa begging for a miracle. Any kind of miracle, or even a few minutes of normality. So she could feel the heat that radiated off of Clarke as the woman hovered over her.

 

As Clarke pulled away the moment of intimacy died with it. Lexa breathed deeply, wincing at the pain that sprung up in her lungs. “I know you have accepted your fate Lexa, as have I but I will be here until you take that last breath.”

 

“Why Clarke, why. You don't know me, you just met me yesterday. I am a stranger to you.”

 

“Not for long Lexa.” She smiled softly and stood up off the bed, Lexa's eyes following her as she moved. “I have to go and check on the others on this floor but I will be back soon.”

 

“Okay, Clarke.” Lexa murmured her reply.

 

“You will eat tonight.” Clarke told her firmly as she left the room. Leaving Lexa to roll her eyes at no one in particular. As she listened to the blonde's footsteps echo down the hallway she felt something in her chest. A warmth spreading through her that she hadn't felt in a long time. A twinge of hope clouding her mind as she closed her eyes.

 

The sound of Clarke's laughter in her ears instead of those machines all around her. The peaceful solitude of sleep that swept over her was a welcome relief but her dreams were not. Her dreams full of memories, full of her family, of Costia, her ex-girlfriend.

 

The exact memory of a family dinner, just before the night of the accident. Talk of Lexa nearing graduation, the long years of studying architecture at Yale finally coming to an end. Her dreams of building homes for complete strangers finally about to come true but as she drove home that night. The flash of headlights in her vision, the feeling of metal cutting directly into her spine in several places. Metal puncturing her lungs, just barely missing her heart.

 

The feeling of all of her dreams being taken away from her in the span of two minutes. The driver of the other car walking away with numerous cuts and bruises while Lexa laid in a hospital bed unable to feel below her neck. Death hanging above her bed as she laid awake at night with pain that merely existed in her mind as her doctor had told her.

 

She felt herself begin to cry as the dream progressed but instead of waking up again in her hospital bed. She looked down at it, she looked down at her body in the operating room. Her bare back exposed as metal was extracted from her skin. Deep, jagged cuts lining her body as the surgeons worked over her. Nurses at their sides, their words she could not understand as they worked over her. She watched herself flat line once, then twice, the surgeons bringing her back each time.

 

She gasped each time the surgeon pressed the defibrillator to her. Shocking her heart back to life, but as the second time came around she felt hands on her face. A soft voice in her ear, calling out to her in the distance. She felt the pull for her to wake up as the voice grew louder, she felt the fingers that caressed her face gently as she woke. Her eyes opening and meeting soft blue eyes that were filled with worry.

 

“Lexa?” Clarke called out again quietly, not removing her hands from Lexa's face.

 

“I'm awake Clarke, I am alive.”

 

“Your heart monitor was going crazy despite you being asleep, what were you dreaming of?”

 

“The accident, I'm sure you read it in my files.”

 

“I did, I had to, I'm sorry.”

 

“Why are you sorry Clarke? It is your job.”

 

“It is also private.”

 

“And your job Clarke but it's okay.” Lexa closed her eyes once more as Clarke pulled away, she heard her take a seat in the chair by her bed. “How are my neighbors?”

 

“Alive and well I would say, but I'm not a doctor.” Lexa opened her eyes once more and looked over at Clarke. “Your neighbor on the right is going home soon.”

 

“I don't even know who it is.”

 

“Miss Parish, came in for a broken hip, she is 62.”

 

“Good for her, I hope my next neighbor isn't as loud.” Lexa joked, cracking a small smile. “She held so many late night parties, so much loud music and drinking.”

 

Clarke laughed loudly, “I'm sure she did.”

 

“Don't believe me? Go ask my left neighbor, she will back up my story.”

 

–

 

Clarke unlocked her front door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights then locking her door. Dropping her bag by the front door, kicking off her shoes but not bothering to change out of her scrubs as she approached the easel again. She'd spent the last hour of her shift again trying to understand the color in Lexa's eyes. Only the last minute providing a cheap answer, an answer that she would not choose to paint permanently into the eyes on the canvas.

 

Instead she began to paint around it, but stopping as she decided she couldn't figure out exactly what she wanted to paint. The brunette woman a maze of twists and turns at every turn that more often than not confused Clarke.

 

She bit her lip as she stared at the painting from her position on the floor. She wished this had been another life, that she had met Lexa in another world. That could probably know the woman outside of a hospital room. That she could befriend her without feeling as if she forced her to. That she could watch the woman walk or run, to move her hands and legs. To be able to return Clarke's touch, to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall from Clarke's eyes as she thought of the brunette alone at the hospital.

 

She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood, stripping as she went. Showering quickly and pulling on the clothes that she'd laid out on her bed that morning. Grabbing a change of scrubs then grabbing her bag once more. Leaving her home, locking the door behind her and returning to the hospital.

 

But she stopped in the parking lot, her bag on her shoulder. A cool breeze blowing her hair out behind her as she looked up at the tall building before her. Every so often a light flickering out as she stood there. She gritted her teeth as she wondered what the hell she was doing. Lexa wouldn't want her to come and sit in her room all night, what the hell was Clarke even doing in the parking lot.

 

She sighed and shook her head, getting back into her old truck. Throwing her bag across the seat and leaning her forehead against the steering wheel. Gripping tightly until her knuckles turned white until finally she laid down across the seat, her bag beneath her head. Her eyes looking out the passenger side window, up at the stars. At the bright half moon that hung over her, her eyes drooping closed as she slowly drifted to sleep.

 

In her dreams Lexa stood before her, her smile bright. Her eyes equally as bright as she held Clarke's hand where they stood beneath the stars. The brunette lifting her hand and pointing out a shooting star as it shot across the sky, telling Clarke to make a wish.

 

Clarke did as dream Lexa told her, she wished. She wished for Lexa to be set free, to be able to walk again, to run again. To live again. She wished for her to be happy the way she deserved to be happy.

 

–

 

As the weeks passed, Clarke watched Lexa slowly wither away. Her cheekbones becoming more pronounced, the bones in her hands sharp where the skin simply laid over her deteriorating muscles. Yet the brunette kept a smile on her face every day as Clarke entered the room in one of her many sets of multicolored scrubs. When the brunette admitted that she liked the blue scrubs, Clarke began to wear only blue.

 

When Lexa told her she loved architecture, she began to bring in architecture magazines. Sitting with the brunette for hours after the end of her shift flipping through the pages. Smiling at the happiness that radiated from Lexa, listening to her words as she looked over the buildings. Clarke knew Lexa itched to touch the magazines herself, to hold them up to herself as she laid in the bed.

 

When Lexa mentioned her love for history, Clarke brought in a portable DVD player. She brought in dozens of DVDs of historical documentaries. Sitting with Lexa as the brunette watched, unable to keep her eyes on the screen. Focusing entirely on the brilliant smile that Lexa kept glued to her face as she watched. Adding in small tidbits of information that the DVD failed to provide.

 

When Lexa told her that she believed in reincarnation, Clarke set herself to learning all she could about it. Coming to understand why the brunette relied as heavily as she did on it. The belief that after death, they can begin a new life in a new body. The idea of it made Clarke smile.

 

–

Clarke waited one night until Lexa fell asleep to leave. She'd noticed the ragged breaths that escaped the woman in her sleep. She'd over heard a doctor tell another nurse that Lexa only had days left. The man's words had left Clarke with an overwhelming feeling of dread. So much so that she almost couldn't face Lexa after she'd heard them.

 

She had disappeared into an empty room, her head in her hands and tears streaming down her face as she sobbed as quietly as she could. She knew they were nearing the end of the line, she knew Lexa knew as well. The brunette hadn't spoken about death in so long but she knew the words were on the tip of her tongue.

 

As Clarke looked up, taking several deep breaths she knew she had to go home. She couldn't sit in an empty hospital room and cry her eyes out over Lexa. She couldn't let another nurse or a doctor find her and tell her off for getting attached to a patient. She already knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it.

 

She couldn't help falling in love with Lexa.

 

–

 

Lexa heard Clarke leave the room, she heard the soft sound of her footsteps as the blonde woman left. She took a deep breath, pain shooting through her as she coughed. She knew she was going to die soon. She knew Clarke knew as well and as she stared up at the ceiling, she recalled those blue eyes and soft smile.

 

She drew another painful breath as she slowly closed her eyes. Another breath as she felt herself completely whole, something she hadn't felt since the accident. She felt the heat of the sheets that covered her body. She felt the roughness against her skin as she moved her fingers, she took another breath but held it. She knew it would be her last as her consciousness faded.

 

Her last thoughts being of blue eyes and blonde hair, of soft blue scrubs. Of the feel of Clarke's warm hands on her face as her last breath escaped her.

 

–

 

Clarke woke to numerous calls from hospital staff but no voice mails. She rushed from the house, not even locking the door. Only managing to pull on her discarded jeans from the night before that laid by her bed. She rushed to the hospital, ignoring the slow elevator. Running down the brightly lit hallway, past the nurses station. Ignoring the nurses that called out her name and bursting into Lexa's room, the door closing softly behind her.

 

She dropped to her knees as her worst nightmare was confirmed. The white bed empty, the mattress bare and the machines gone. A dead silence falling on the room as Clarke broke into tears on the cold hospital floor. She cried out Lexa's name into the empty room, her hands falling to her sides as she cried out the woman's name once more.

 

She cried until she heard a footstep in the room, she turned sharply towards the door as she wiped tears away from her eyes but there was no one there. She stood on shaky legs, looking around the room. A soft sob escaping her as Lexa sat on the empty hospital bed. The woman giving her a soft smile.

 

Clarke blinked several times as this Lexa approached her. Her brunette hair spilling down her back in braids, her green eyes bright and full of something that Clarke couldn't quite place. Lexa put her hand on Clarke's arm, firmly grasping her and pulling on her. Pulling her into a hug that felt so unreal that Clarke believed it to be real. Clarke felt something brush her hair as she blinked. The image of Lexa gone, replaced by thin air as more tears fell from Clarke's eyes.

 

A nurse appeared in the doorway, catching Clarke as she collapsed once more. She hushed her gently, cradling Clarke's head in her arms, rocking her soothingly as Clarke cried out for Lexa.

 

–

 

As Lexa's funeral approached, Clarke gave in her resignation. Informing her former employer that she could no longer work in that hospital, or any other. She'd sat in front of her unfinished painting for hours that night. Still unsure, tears still falling.

 

At the funeral she stood behind the family, part of her surprised they'd even taken the time to show up. Clarke didn't recognize any of them but a woman a few years older than her approached her as the service ended. Her dirty blonde hair done up into a tight bun, her hazel eyes fierce and almost void of emotion. Her cheekbones reminded Clarke of Lexa and that was when she understood the woman to be her sister, Anya.

 

“Who are you, why are you.” The woman growled at her fiercely.

 

“I was her nurse.” Clarke replied in the same tone, her hands balling into fists.

 

“You don't look like Aurora Blake.”

 

“Because I'm not, she quit and I replaced her, Clarke Griffin.”

 

“There was no reason for you to be here, she was just a job for you.” Anya replied coldly, but Clarke heard the underlying sadness that threatened to escape her.

 

“She was more than a job for me, I.. I grew to love her in the month that I knew her.” Clarke looked away from Anya, out across the cemetery, at the slowly disappearing crowd. “She died in her sleep they told me, peacefully.”

 

“I regret not being there.” Anya said quietly, looking down at her feet. “I should have been there but I just..”

 

“I know, I understand but she needed you.” Clarke looked back at the woman as she wiped a tear from her eye. “I tried.. I tried to make it easier, I tried to help her forget. I-” Clarke broke off aburptly, she covered her face with her hands as she felt Anya pull her into a hug.

 

“Thank you Clarke, thank you.” The woman murmured in her ear as Clarke looked up over her shoulder. Spotting the image of Lexa again but standing by her grave. The woman looking down then suddenly back up at Clarke, giving her a sad smile before disappearing into the breeze.

 

–

 

Clarke stood in front of the easel again, her fingers itching to paint. The exact image in her head she wanted to depict and as she began. She felt herself grow numb to the pain she'd felt in the past week. The brush in her fingers rough against the canvas as she worked. She worked late into the night until finally stepping back just as dawn broke outside. A small smile on her face as the image of Lexa sat stark against the off white canvas.

 

She was grateful for the picture that Anya had given her. She hadn't wanted to paint Lexa as she had known her, slowly dying and withering away. She wanted to paint her alive and happy, with a bright smile on her face. She wanted to immortalize Lexa the way she had been meant to live.

 

So the image of the woman sat on the canvas, sitting on a parking bench. With a bouquet of flowers in her hand, yellow and white daffodils. Only Lexa, the bench and the flowers, the rest white, as Clarke had no idea what to put behind her. Lexa had always commanded her complete attention, anything beyond her had been white noise.

 

–

 

Clarke never forgot Lexa as she went on in life, the painting hung in her bedroom, just over her bed. Despite Anya very nearly fighting her over it, the two women had remained in contact, quickly becoming friends. Clarke had been in attendance the day the woman got married to her long time boyfriend Gustus Hill.

 

Now she was at the hospital just after Anya had given birth to their first child, a girl as Gustus had told her. She stood in front of the glass the separated her from the nursery. Her eyes scanning over the babies, a small smile on her lips as Gustus moved on the other side, making his way to his daughter.

 

He reached out and picked her up gently, Clarke moved over as he approached the glass. Holding his daughter up so Clarke could see her. As Clarke studied the child, her breath caught and her jaw dropped. From the light brunette curls on the top of her head to the already open eyes that stared back at her.

 

Those eyes a forest green that only served to remind Clarke of Lexa.

 

Anya and Gustus had agreed to name their daughter Alexandria, Lexa for short.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting so any and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I tried to give it a happy ending, I really did.


End file.
